How does it feel
by Athena's Wiccan-wolf
Summary: One shot. If you're going to lead a difficult, weird life then you might as well do it with friends by your side. My musings on Harry's new role as 'Child of the Prophesy'


Disclaimer: Not mine but instead they belong to that wonderful woman known as JK  
  
AN: I was kicking back in my room when this song cam on and I thought 'That's probably how Harry feels' so here you are, my first Songfic.  
  
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One Shot - How Does it Feel  
  
Harry was led back on his bed in 4 privet drive staring at the ceiling. The events just before the summer swam together in his mind as he lay unmoving, staring at the spot on the white washed surface above him.  
  
Everything from Sirius's death to Dumbledore revealing the Prophesy tended to be the main trails of thought that he followed and that he tried to work out. He missed Sirius with everything that was inside him but for now he had cried his tears. He still mourned but he knew Sirius wouldn't want him wasting his life away seeing as he gave his own for Harry.  
  
But the Prophesy was the one that distressed him the most. He always knew he was different but this was...this was a new –level- of different.  
  
/I'm not afraid of anything  
  
I just need to know that I can breathe  
  
I don't need much of anything  
  
But Suddenly/  
  
How was he, no different in power to many other wizard teenagers, supposed to kill a mass murdering tyrant who had been feared for the better part of two decades? He hadn't 'fought' Voldermort when he was a baby, he had simply –survived-. And what was so different from all the other times he was against Riddle?  
  
Ok so in his fourth year he had managed to apprehend the curse thrown at him but he hadn't 'defeated' Voldermort in any way, but instead had simply put off his own death.  
  
/I am small and the world is big  
  
All around me is fast moving  
  
Surrounded by so many things  
  
But suddenly, suddenly/  
  
If it was simply surviving for himself he could handle that. But if he died then it was the –entire- wizarding world that was going to be thrown into dark and painful times.  
  
So no pressure then.  
  
Besides, he was only just touching 16; he didn't want to die. He wasn't afraid to die, but that didn't mean he wanted to. He wanted...he wasn't sure what he wanted. He just knew he'd like to be able to think about reaching his 18th birthday like any other normal teenager.  
  
No...-that- was what he wanted. He wanted to be normal, insignificant surrounded by a happy family with no heavy burdens bending his back.  
  
/How does it feel to be  
  
Different from me  
  
Are we the same?  
  
How does it feel to be  
  
Different from me  
  
Are we the same?  
  
How does it feel/  
  
Why wasn't he allowed to be shy like Neville, or part of the crowd like many of the students? Why was he always placed in front of everyone and expected to lead them to victory? He was 16 for crying out loud!  
  
Maybe he should ask someone, like Ron. Pft, yeah right, he could just imagine that letter:  
  
-Ron, Why am I not normal and you are? Harry-  
  
If it wasn't a sure way to piss off his friend who sought individuality then it would have all his 'guardians' round asking if he'd like to talk and that they're here to listen  
  
How can they understand the idea of having the fate of billions of people resting painfully on his not even adult developed shoulders? How could they understand the idea that he hasn't got time to mourn everyone he loses, as there are too many and he'll just have to wait to after the War to shed his tears?  
  
He didn't want them to understand, they didn't deserve that.  
  
/I am young and I am free  
  
But I get tired and I get weak  
  
I get lost and I can't sleep  
  
But suddenly, suddenly/  
  
People hear 'Boy who lived' and think of some multi-talented hero that can throw fire and conjure great spells. That's Dumbledore, not him. Maybe, years from now he'd be as powerful as Dumbledore but it was highly unlikely at this age. He hadn't even come of age yet, how can he be expected to lead a battle against Voldermort?  
  
The worst bit is that he can't curl up into a loving lap and cry himself dry. He's the fearless leader now, he's not supposed to show weakness. When others are screaming he must step forward with his wand drawn and a determined look upon his face fighting to defend his friends. That's who he has to be and now that's how everyone sees him.  
  
That boy who fought the Basilisk, who drove off Dementors and fended off Voldermort, was the Boy who Lived.  
  
But he's just Harry. He liked girls and blushes when they talk to him, he likes to make crude jokes with his best friend and he likes to eat too many sweets before dinner. He likes to play sports and struggles in a few lessons.  
  
But they don't see that...that –normality- in him. They-can't- see it. They don't want to. Someone has to protect them and they've chosen him despite his protests.  
  
/Would you comfort me  
  
Would you cry with me  
  
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah  
  
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah/  
  
What if he just gave up? –Quit- being the 'Boy who Lived'? What would happen?  
  
Would the world end or would it continue with that slight difference? Would he be allowed his wish to just be like everyone else or would he forever be trapped by a title he can't remember earning?  
  
Would he ever be able to go out with someone and know that they weren't just with him for his title?  
  
He sighed as he rolled onto his side to stare at the wall beside his bed. A picture of Himself, Hermione and Ron was tacked to the wall, startling him slightly as he had forgotten he had put it there. He watched intrigued as the three figures in the picture tried for a serious picture before they all cracked up and picture Ron began to have a mock catfight picture Harry making real Harry laugh as picture Hermione sighed.  
  
/How does it feel to be  
  
Different from me  
  
Are we the same?  
  
How does it feel to be  
  
Different from me  
  
Are we the same?  
  
How does it feel  
  
I am small and the world is big  
  
But I'm not afraid of anything/  
  
It suddenly dawned on him then that maybe Ron and Hermione weren't all that normal either. Hermione was both the smartest witch of her time and his best friend. Ron had been on numerous dangerous adventures with him, more then any other teenager their age.  
  
They were with him for a fair bit of the weird going on's of Harry's life even if they didn't end up in the final battles like he did. They weren't happy with that fact, they wanted to stand beside Harry when he faced these dangers.  
  
What was it people called them? The Golden Trio, the Three Musketeers, the Scooby Gang. Hell, even the Three stooges at some point!  
  
He grinned as he made this revelation. They weren't normal either...they were all weird together.  
  
/Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah  
  
Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah  
  
How does it feel  
  
How does it feel  
  
You're different from me different  
  
How does it feel  
  
How does it feel  
  
You're different from me different/  
  
He felt strangely compelled to write to them all of a sudden about absolutely nothing important at all. Maybe about the way he had observed people around him or how people that led such normal lives must be incredibly boring.  
  
It's not the happy ending he would've desired, no that would be himself acting like anyone else as his parents did whatever it was they liked doing downstairs in their home, but it was enough.  
  
It was ending enough. Because no matter how hard things got, they were all still together...still as weird as hell.  
  
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AN: Altogether now...'CHEESY!' Sorry, I felt compelled to write this one shot as I seem to be writing romances left right and centre but I felt like just writing a simple musing piece. Plus I know there are people out there who hate Hermione and Ron so I just wanted to show them that no matter what anyone says, these guys are good friends that I love to bits. The two of them remind me of two of my friends so I've always loved 'the Trio!' 


End file.
